


Learning to love

by orphan_account



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Guns, I'm nervous, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Peter is an Avenger, depressed!Wade, my first fic about this ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From tumblr. I'm just posting all my things here now.</p><p>Answer to the prompt: "Peter loves wearing Wade's big shirts and Wade is moved and aroused at the same time".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this first chapter is very angsty and the prompt doesn't ask for it in any way but I promise I'll get there!!!
> 
> WE'LL GET THE FLUFF! HAPPY ENDINGS FOR EVERYONE!
> 
> Also, [SkollsBite](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SkollsBite/profile) is now editing this fic! Thank you for the BIG help, it means tons, really!!

The truth was: Wade hated himself.

He hated to look in the mirror and see his own face, the skin marred and stained, the moisture that the cancer left behind, a constant reminder that his entire body was rotting, dying every moment, fighting the healing factor that insisted on regenerating the cells, keeping him among the living.

On days like that, when the pain was excruciating and the desire to die overwhelming, Wade liked to put a gun to the middle of his forehead and shoot, savor the few moments where he could lie in full and absolute peace, minutes that he needn't deal with his own demons and insecurities.

That is, until life started pulsing through his veins one more time.

"Shit..." - there was blood splattered all over the room, running down the wall, soaking into the bed, floor and the clothes that the mercenary was wearing - "Tsk, my last white shirt..." - he complained softly, holding the cloth now dyed red.

With blood still trickling down his forehead, Wade slowly rose from the mattress, walking to the bathroom and dipping his head in cold water.

With parts of his brain still forming, only a few coherent thoughts appeared: "maybe you should change clothes and clean the room", but then... Why bother? It's not as if someone like Wade Wilson deserved to be respected or cared for...

Perhaps that is why his apartment was in complete chaos, full of leftover food, dirty clothes and insects. After all, the mercenary himself didn't think he deserved to live in a nice place.

He ran his fingers over his wet face and, ignoring the mirror, heads to the kitchen in search of something to eat.

When Wade could think properly, he remembered that he had a job to do; kill a man who lived in the area patrolled by the friendly neighborhood, Spider-man.

It was not a job he was proud of, but it was the only thing left; with his appearance and unstable mind, only his skills with weapons were worth anything. Killing brought no pride or honor, but generated money, made Wade feel useful (albeit in a negative way) and, God forbid, he had fun sometimes.

He took a deep breath, staring at his Spider-man thematic socks.

The hero would be furious to see a body in the middle of the sidewalk, even though said corpse was a criminal.

Well... A few more hatred points for the Merc with a Mouth.

Not that he minded, except that yes, he cared.

"Shit"

****

**xxx**

Around eleven o'clock at night, on top of a building that provided the perfect view of a store entrance, Deadpool was lying on the ground, holding one of his best weapons, just waiting on his target.

"C'mon, it's freezing out here and you're making me miss Golden Girls" - he murmured, beginning to lose patience, moving to the side to relieve some pressure on his muscles. Then, finally, the establishment door opened.

"Yes! Come to papa-- Oh man, really?!" - along with the man, three more people walked out, three pairs of eyes that would see someone die, which, according to the instructions of the contractor, would be unacceptable; Wade had to kill the man with no one around, otherwise his payment would be dropped by half.

"Fuck me sideways" - he mumbled. Now the strategy of shooting from far away was totally compromised. Wade would have to approach, think of some way to separate the target from the others and then complete the job. He deserved a bonus for this.

After more than ten minutes following the man in the dark streets of New York, he finally said goodbye to his friends. He stood near a street, looking for a cab, probably. Wade didn't need to know.

Wade approached and covered his mouth with one hand, the other pressing a gun into the man's back. It would not be the most honorable of deaths, but someone like that guy deserved nothing grander.

"Good night sunshine, welcome aboard the Deadpool aircraft! This flight's going to the next alley where you should not scream since that would make my job a lot easier"

When both men were surrounded by shadows, Wade threw the other to the ground, ready to shoot, ignoring the way the man was trembling and begging for his life. It would be a quick, easy job, and the merc really wanted to go home, watch some TV, eat tacos and sleep.

"Hey, didn't you hear? He said 'please'!"

Spider-man. Wade could recognize that voice anywhere.

His mind started racing: no, that couldn't end well.

One of the only heroes that the mercenary respected was about to see him as something worse than a monster. Spider-man despised those who had no love for life.

But then, maybe he could understand...? After all, this job was different from the others; the target _deserved_ to die.

Wade let his gun be webbed up to the wall, using those few moments to think. Because no, he didn't want to be the bad guy again, not in front of Spider-man, not when he finally had the chance to show he was doing something good, at least in his own view.

And he should stop thinking and do something, do something before it was too late, before--

"Baby boy!" - Wade raised his hands, turning away from his target to be able to face Peter, finding him on one of the walls - "Long time no see, how are you? I wanted to pay you a visit, but you know, I don't know where you live" - his mouth seemed to move by itself, his body was acting freely, the conflicts in his mind thrown into a dark corner.

"Right, I'm pretty okay, thank you, but I think that something else is more important right now" - Spider-man pointed to the man who was crawling, trying to escape - "Leave him alone"

"Oh, actually this is a pretty funny story, he's a criminal, a murderer and a pimp that deserves to die and, here comes the funny part, I'm getting paid for it!" - Deadpool turned, using one of his gadgets to immobilize the man - "Isn't it nice?"

"No, actually no" - Peter jumped, standing near the mercenary; his spider sense was not warning him of any danger, so it was safe to stay there, at least for now - "Can't let this happen"

"Aw, com'on! He's a bad guy!"

"I don't care? I mean, I do, but can't--"

"... I knew you would say that" - and in a fraction of a second, Wade had the man over his shoulder, using the teleporter to try to escape from Peter.

He needed to kill that man, with or without the hero's approval.

He could live with a little more guilt on his shoulders. Probably.

But, of course, tricking Spider-man wasn't easy, and soon the hero was behind the other, chasing him through New York.

"Hey Spidey, I think you didn't get the equation! Dead bad guy equals safer world!" - Deadpool jumped across the rooftops of buildings, dodging webs.

"I don't care! You don't have the right to kill anybody!" - and those were the magic words; Wade stopped running. The voices in his head started to return.

"I don't? And he? He didn't think when he killed people. He had no right to mess with their lives! Why are you trying to protect him?"

"Because _no one_ deserves to die!"

And for the first time, Peter saw the mercenary remain quiet.

Deadpool was a familiar figure in New York, a man highly skilled with guns, with a passion for dangerous and crazy things and a healing factor that rivaled that of Wolverine's.

Peter was never interested enough to research more about him, but if there was one thing that was common knowledge, it was that Wade was never serious, he was always talking, joking. That silence was abnormal, dangerous.

"Look, Dead--" - but before he could finish his sentence, Wade began to laugh, loudly, in an almost manic way, the man on his shoulder falling to the ground when the mercenary twisted to squeeze his own belly and wipe away fake tears.

Peter never felt so uncomfortable and out of place. He knew he needed to act, preferably in a way that made his spider sense stop tingling.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't--" - he didn't know why or for what he was apologizing, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

"No! No, you're right!" - Wade took a deep breath, calming down - "No one deserves to die, that includes me, right? But everybody gets it in the end, so, why prolong his suffering, eh?" - he pointed a gun directly at the man's head.

"NO!" - Peter yelled, taking a step toward them - "Please don't do this, it isn't right, he could be better, please--" - he was blabbering, shaking, sweating, his eyes glued to the expression of utter hopelessness on the man's face.

" _I_ want to be someone better, but no one believes in me!"

"Please, don't--" - trying to catch the weapon would be useless; before he ever reached the gun Deadpool could shoot.

"... Okay then" - Wade said suddenly, taking two steps back - "Have fun with this scumbag" - even though Peter shouted for the mercenary to wait, Wade chose to ignore it, jumping from the building and disappearing into the city.

Why could even a villain redeem himself and he couldn't? Why did everybody get a second chance and he did not?

That night the bedroom walls received a few more red spots.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'm sorry for not writing in ages D: Second, thank you [SkollsBite](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SkollsBite/profile) for editing this chapter, it means a lot! :D
> 
> Peter is an avenger in here, he also wants to save everybody. 
> 
> Wade is not a happy person.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

“So, let me get this straight” – Tony sipped from his glass, making a face when the whiskey burned his throat – “You want information about Wade Wilson, the mercenary?”

Peter looked down at his fidgeting hands.

“Yes” – he said carefully – “For, uh, science purposes” – sitting there before Tony’s raised eyebrow, Peter wished the chair would just swallow him.

At least they were alone in one of the many rooms at the Stark Tower. No other avengers nearby meant more sanity and dignity for the friendly neighborhood Spider-man, even though Tony wasn’t a man known for his subtlety; Peter could still wake up to endless jokes from Clint and Jessica about his sudden interest in Deadpool and about what he was asking for: information. It was a gamble.

“You sure you don’t want to tell me the real reason?” – Stark leaned on the table, looking at Peter with an inquisitive expression.

“Right…” – Peter said after a few seconds, weighing the consequences.

He was sure that Tony wouldn’t press the matter if he chose not to tell him, but then, why not? Life experience had taught him that, in the end, truth tended to be the better option.

“I kind of met Deadpool, like, three or four weeks ago” – Tony rolled his eyes, sighing, probably recalling some former event involving the mercenary; Peter didn’t want to know – “He was trying to kill this man, I don’t know who he was, but Deadpool kept saying that he deserved it, that he was a bad guy and I… I don’t know what to think about him anymore” – he mumbled the last sentence, questioning himself for the tenth time, wondering whether he shouldn't just forget this matter, force his brain to not think about Wade.

“Yeah, me too. Impressive that even a crazy guy like him can have a conscience sometimes…” – Tony poured more whiskey, turning to Peter to offer some, getting a negative response – “I understand why you’re so curious about him, he really is an interesting person” – another mouthful from the drink – “I even thought about running some tests with him-- Oh please, don’t look at me with those eyes! Every worthy scientist would think the same, but all those human rights things and the Cap made me change my mind”

Still, Peter couldn’t erase his terrified expression.

“But, I'll tell you what, he’s dangerous” – Peter already knew he'da say something like that – “One day he could tell you jokes and the next try to cut your head off” – Tony fixed his eyes on the newest avenger – “Still want to know about him?” – and then it hit the brunet; what Tony was trying to do, make him see that Deadpool wasn’t someone who he could just dabble with and then try to forget, that he wasn’t just some interesting subject.

Peter already knew that.

“I want to understand” – he stated quietly, part of his mind registering that maybe he was descending down a path of no return.

“Alright. I’m going to send you everything we have in the system. Don’t tell Cap” – Tony started to pour more whiskey – “You sure you don’t want?” – he waved the bottle a little – “It may help you digest what you’ll read”

Peter gulped, asking himself, again, if this was really a good idea.

**xxx**

Mondays were hideous things, they should be banned from existence or sued for making people feel shitty.

Even though Wade didn’t really need to wake up early, he still felt the effects of a Monday morning; it wasn’t pretty. He wanted nothing more than to just stay on the couch all day long, eating tacos and watching something, anything. Thinking about it, it wasn’t different than any other day, actually.

He scratched his head and moved to the kitchen, searching for any leftovers.

The place was a mess, including an infestation on the ceiling and a lot of empty bottles (why he still bothered drinking alcohol was beyond his own comprehension… His healing factor prevented any effects anyway).

Kicking some old bags out of the way, Wade finally reached the fridge, opening it to see a whole lot of nothing. Great… Maybe it was some kind of signal from the universe telling him that yes, it was time to visit the market.

Anyway, perhaps a little time outside the apartment would make him feel better, fresh, just like directors liked to show in their movies. At least the boxes agreed that a walk through the city was a good idea.

With a big hoodie (customized with Deadpool’s logo, which he himself sewed), comfortable pants and old sneakers, the mercenary left the place, carrying only some money and two well-hidden guns (it was a habit, something that made Wade feel safe and, strangely, less lonely).

It wasn’t a secret that, in the whole building, Wade was considered one of the weirdest residents. He rarely talked to anyone and was always using something to cover his face. One time a kid from the floor below could swear that she saw Wilson wearing a funny Spider-man’s costume, trying to climb the ladders and mumbling something about not wanting to use the door. 

Yet, Wade paid the bills in time and never bothered anyone; there was no reason to complain about him, not really. Of course, this didn’t mean that people wouldn't stop to look at him with weird, curious looks, muttering jokes or something under their breaths.

And with each step, Wade was cowering more and more inside his hoodie, walking faster toward the exit.

Funny that without his mask he started to lose confidence. Maybe he'd never had it.

The only thing that Wade wanted was to escape, blend with the environment, shield himself from all the looks. And who wouldn’t stare? With a face like that…

When he hit the door and made it outside, his lungs started to function again, all the oppression left behind.

The wind was gentle and people crowded the sidewalks. This was New York, no one would notice or care about a man walking through the streets. Still, Wade pulled his hoodie closer, covering more of his face.

Yep, he always knew that long walks in movies were bullshit, just another scene. There was nothing refreshing about it.

**xxx**

Peter rolled on his bed, unable to close his eyes.

His phone was repeating the same music for, maybe, the twentieth time. It wasn’t even a song he liked, but he couldn’t bring himself to care and skip the track. His mind was far away, involved in more important matters.

Tony really sent all information involving Deadpool, from reports of small missions he did with SHIELD to material from his childhood. How they had all this material and why Tony decided to help him were mysteries, but Peter was glad he could read and analyze the majority of the data.

It was disturbing.

Deadpool was talkative, silly, obnoxious, had an endless list of horrible puns and was shameless. Who would think that, beneath the mask and all the funny remarks, was a man who suffered the horrors of war and project X.

There were no available photos, but the medical reports stating Deadpool’s cancer, _Wade_ ’s cancer, were enough to make Peter imagine.

He probably lived in a personal hell every day. Having to handle the pain and his obscure past.

However, Peter didn’t have a single memory about Deadpool sad or even complaining about his life.

He probably lived in a big theater play as well, acting, lying to the world and himself.

And Peter was no saint, he had two lives and lied to almost everyone, hiding all his failures and fears behind jokes. That’s why he knew Wade couldn’t really be happy. That’s why his heart said he should help.

In the end, Tony was right, Wade was much more than just an interesting person.

**xxx**

Three in the morning. His costume was starting to make his skin itch, it was cold, his stomach was more than empty and he wanted nothing more than to just go home and sleep a little. Damn his conscience, he would find Deadpool later and then try to talk to him.

Peter sighed. Who was he kidding? For almost a week he'd tried to find the mercenary, instead finding only petty criminals. It was like Wade was avoiding him.

Finally, when the sun was almost risen, Spider-man decided it was time to rest. At least he didn’t have any classes.

“Deadpool, wait!” – he shouted when a red blur caught his attention, his tired brain automatically associating this with the mercenary – “I just want to talk!”

Peter swung toward the man, a part of himself desperate to speak with him, to help, while the other was stating how crazy and dangerous the whole situation was; how could he, a simple teenager, say he just read almost everything about the mercenary’s life without his consent and now wants to talk to him?

Chances were he was going to get shot and, probably, dismembered. But now it was tooo late, as Wade stopped running and turned to him.

“Oh, hi Spidey! Long time no see! How are you baby cakes?”

It was awkward to see Wade so… Happy. Peter scratched his neck, looking for the right things to say.

“Fine, I guess…” – he swallowed – “I just…” – he didn’t even know _what_ he wanted to say.

Peter swallowed for a second time.

“It’s okay, I have lots of time” – this made Peter cringe.

“I'm sorry for saying that thing, you know, the last time we saw each other, I wasn't thinking... It wasn't my intention to hurt you, in fact,” – God, he was horrible with these kind of things – “I'm really proud of you, for not killing that guy…” – he was uncomfortable, Wade was probably uncomfortable, this whole situation was uncomfortable! Why couldn't his mind just remember all those speeches he had practiced?

“Wait, are you serious?” – there was surprise in his voice, not rejection or any hint that Peter had crossed any boundaries.

“Of course I am” – he said with some relief, looking at the smile under Wade’s mask.

That was the chance he was looking for. He could talk with Wade and help him in some way. But first he needed to say something.

"What-- What do you think about a hot dog? And then maybe we could talk, I mean, properly talk...?" – his brain was still telling him that this was madness.

Well, too late.

"Just, please? I'll pay"

"...Uh... Sure, why not?"

Peter sighed with relief, though he still didn't know what he was doing.

"Great, I know the perfect place for a hot dog, c'mon"


End file.
